


Draco Malfoy Hacks the Ministry And Messes With Harry Potter (and other less fun and more serious happenings)

by bafflinghaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Flirting Draco Malfoy, Harry knows Draco is Up To Something, House Elves, Humour, M/M, Magical Automation, Magical Programmer/Hacker Draco Malfoy, Smart Draco Malfoy, Wards, emojis, gringotts, or should I say more fun and less serious happenings?, partial case fic, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 06:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: Harry Potter knows Malfoy is up to something. But he just can’tproveit, because the slippery smarmy Slytherin leaves no traces, and seems to take all of Harry’s interrogations as invitations tokiss.





	Draco Malfoy Hacks the Ministry And Messes With Harry Potter (and other less fun and more serious happenings)

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the ["Magical Hackers"](http://quicksilvermaid.tumblr.com/post/177894087533/punkrockgrantaire-are-there-like-hackers-in) prompt on tumblr, with quicksilvermaid’s addition of Hacker Draco/Auror Harry

 

 

 

It starts because he’s bored with dealing with the Malfoy finances. It’s all so boring, tedious, and most of all, _repetitive_ , and it’s not worthy of Draco’s time and attention. So instead, Draco starts up a little automaton procedure to add the numbers up for him. And then it all absolutely goes from there to the point that the entire accounting of the Malfoy finances happens automatimagically, the information filling out itself across the Malfoy books and then all Draco needs to look at are the pretty graphs at the end.

Then, Draco starts looking for other things he can automate, other procedures that he encode into algorithmic spells. He starts playing around with the lighting and heating and cooling charms about Malfoy Manor; from there, it’s a short hop to tinkering with the Manor’s wards directly, poking holes, running down magic paths and making everything better than anyone else can do.

When Draco goes out to London, he can’t help but trail his fingers through all the wards and enchantments there. They’re all so pitiful, half cobbles of protective wards and warning charms cast without any proper order or thought. It’s a good deed he’s doing, poking holes in the wards and triggering the charms. That way, they might be smart enough to fix it. And it’s fun, but too easy and simple.

So he sets himself the goal to develop a way to do all that from a distance. With well placed, hidden items to anchor his spells to, Draco can link back to Malfoy Manor in Wilshire and spread his web.

Naturally, Draco considers the Ministry next.

The Ministry is an interesting, disastrous mess. Hundreds of years of spells cobbled upon each other, at each level, in each department, in each tiny room. There are _so_ many back door entrances to the wards that it’s really no wonder that Voldemort infiltrated the Ministry so easily.

It’s child play to Draco. From the comfort of his own home, Draco conjures the visual representation of the magic entangling the Ministry, the specific spells and arithmancy appearing whenever Draco wants a technical look. With all the surveillance spells steeped into the Ministry, Draco is able to literally stalk various wixes as they go about their business, hear them, and see them. Or rather, one wizard in particular.

He finds himself laughing when he finds out that _Potter_ is apparently on his case. The shopkeepers in London have brought their stories of hacked wards to the Aurors’ attention.

“ _So, someone got through your wards,” Potter says._

“ _Yes,” a shopkeeper vigorously nods._

“ _But nothing was stolen,” Potter continues, skepticism clearly colouring his tone._

“ _Yes, but you never know! Oh, Auror Potter—”_

Draco laughs until it hurts. And then he smirks and starts punching holes into the Ministry wards.

While he waits for anyone at the Ministry to notice, Draco calls a house-elf to replenish his tea while his visualisation swans off to Gringotts. Gringotts is just as interesting as the Ministry, but much more seamless, albeit the spells are older than the Malfoys in Britain. The back doors are dead ends, which means it’s perfect for Draco to test out some new spells to slip in between the cracks that appear whenever an outsider steps into Gringotts.

Draco finds Potter’s vault, and it’s a bloody mess, so Draco cleans it all up for the fun of it, and then he goes down to the tickle the sleeping dragon with a distance spell, because he can and because he’s _Draco_ for constellation’s sake.

One of Draco’s alert spells is triggered, and he switches the visualisation back to the Ministry, where mayhem has been unleashed. Draco’s there when Potter gets a call from Gringotts alerting him of the Gringotts breach and the fact that Potter’s vault has been compromised.

Potter rushes to Gringotts, and through Gringotts' even _better_ monitoring spells, Draco gets to see Potter’s face in full detail. The mix of expressions on Potter’s face is priceless when he sees the neat and tidy vault, and Draco gets all giddy when Potter mutters,

“ _Malfoy, he’s behind this. He’s_ always _up to something.”_

Except, Draco’s been at Malfoy Manor all day. The house-elves can attest; his parents can attest. It’s going to be lovely seeing Harry Potter squirm and flounder.

Draco knows, of course, the moment Potter enters the domain of the Manor’s wards. He has the house-elves take him, the long way, to the daisy yellow receiving room, where Draco awaits.

Potter is red faced from the walking, and he glares at Draco without entering the room.

“Have a seat,” Draco says courteously. To the house-elf, he says, “Milly, please bring us some refreshments.”

Milly pops away, and Potter finally enters the room, albeit heading straight for Draco til he’s literally looming over where Draco is sitting.

“There’s no time for refreshments, Malfoy,” Potter threatens. “You’re arrested under suspicion of breaking into Gringotts, and into _my_ vault.”

Draco smirks, tilting his head back. “Yet, what a compromising position you are in. If you lean in a little closer, we could kiss.”

Potter reddens, straightens up and clears his throat. “Why would anyone want to kiss your pale-as lips?” he mutters. “And stop deflecting! I know it was you.”

Draco’s smirk widens into a smile. “Oh, should I take it as a compliment? It’s impossible to break into Gringotts, after all. We wouldn’t keep our gold there otherwise.”

Potter scowls. “I broke into Gringotts when I was a teenager.”

Draco shrugs. “Well, you _are_ the Harry Potter. So, to what pleasure do I owe your magnificent appearance?”

“Stop lying,” Potter growls. “And stop playing obtuse. I _know_ you’re behind the break-in.”

Draco snorts. “Potter, _how_ would I break into Gringotts? I wouldn’t mind being even more filthy rich.”

“Oh, why don’t _you_ tell _me_ how?!” Potter grabs Draco’s robes and pulls him up.

Draco smirks and slumps forward onto Potter. “Oh my,” Draco titters, his face very close to Potter’s. “A daring wizard, Mr Potter.”

Potter makes a disgusted sound and pushes Draco back down onto lounge.

“I will freely go with you for questioning,” Draco says.

“Fuck.” Potter turns away. “And with your fucking alibi? You want to waste my time.” He turns back to Draco, glaring. “I’ll _catch_ you, Malfoy. Just you _wait_.”

“We could have sex now, there’s no need to wait,” Draco says.

Potter flushes and storms out of the room.

Draco leans back, his face splitting in a grin. _Oh_ , this is just too good.

😉🤭

Harry is frustrated. Fucking livid.

After the disaster at Malfoy Manor, Harry had returned to Gringotts, where they reassured them that, actually, nothing had been taken from his vault, only rearranged.

And fucking hell, if it doesn’t even scream _more_ of Malfoy’s dastardly doing. It’s entirely in his character to mess with Harry like that.

Like how he’d messed with Harry at Malfoy Manor.

Harry’s trying not to think about _that_.

But suddenly now, Harry’s gotten a smoking-gun lead on the break-ins of the shops, the ones where nothing was taken.

It’s got to be Malfoy.

It _is_ Malfoy.

Harry was right in sixth year, and he’s right now too.

Harry’s just has to prove it to everyone else.

But hours upon hours on scanning through those shopkeepers’ wards and through his own Gringotts vault brings up nothing of substance. There are traces of magic, but they’re all too mingled with everything else, and the longer Harry spends picking through the echoes of past magic, the longer _Harry’s_ own magic gets mixed in.

Harry ends up with nothing.

😒🐉

Draco raises one eyebrow at the latest _Daily Prophet_ edition. News of the Potter’s vault breaking is notably _absent_ , but the shopkeepers have gone to the journalists with the mass wards tampering. Conveniently, the following pages contain numerous advertisements for Ward Specialists.

Draco shrugs and drops the paper. He entertains the thought of advertising himself as a Ward Specialist too, because he _is_ one (technically).

But the thought of setting up _other people’s_ wards, only to later break through them with more sophisticated techniques, would make people think that he was bad at setting up wards. And it’s not _worth_ it. Draco’s too expensive for those commoners.

Those Ward Specialists should be grateful that Draco’s giving them business.

No, Draco has more lofty academic (and commercial) tasks to do: patenting his automation spells for finance and accounting. It’s a chore to write out the patent reports. But he wants the _recognition_.

And the right to sell objects imbued with the automation spells. He has quills that’ll do sums, parchment that would automatically duplicate and transfer their information to a repository, and entire empty accounting books that would do all the accounting and tax notices. Once that’s done, he’ll find a capable wix who can teach others how to use these items, because _Draco’s_ not going to play magic support. And that wix could earn money by making people pay to attend their classes, and Draco’ll get even richer from all the sales.

💰📈

All those above tasks take Draco the better part of the month. He hasn’t heard word from Potter, though he hadn’t expect to, since Draco hadn’t been breaking into wards recently. The wards-scare has long faded, and whenever Draco’s down one of London’s alleys, he can feel that only some ended up actually enhancing their wards at all.

With relish, Draco breaks into the wards again. He decides to helpful, for once, and leave little notes on their security flaws.

Draco’s smirking throughout, because he knows Potter will be around, soon.

Unlike the independent shopkeepers however, Gringotts security has tightened immensely. There are multiple layers of wards whenever a patron walks through the door, a solid mass of magic that is too dense for Draco to get in.

So, Draco prepares a little something. After testing it out at Malfoy Manor, he goes to visit Gringotts in person. Ostensibly, he’s there to deposit some gold. In reality, he’s leaving his little device, charmed to look like another gold galleon, behind in his vault.

When he gets back to Malfoy Manor, the way into Gringotts is easy once again. The device leaves behind a thin wire of magic...that leads directly to Draco’s headquarters. At his own leisure, Draco maps out Gringotts and conveniently finds the Ministry’s vaults.

That evening, the _Witch Weekly_ receives an anonymous note detailing the contents of these vaults, and where law-abiding citizens’ money have _really_ gone.

Technically, Draco should have sent it to some place like the _Daily Prophet_. The _Witch Weekly_ doesn’t do political news. But he _could_ , so he _did_.

Potter interrupts Draco’s breakfast the next morning, banging at the front gates as Draco’s reading through the _Witch Weekly_ ’s attempt at speculating who sent the numbers, and why, and what the vault amounts mean.

Calmly, Draco sends one of the house elves to fetch Potter, and another to set a second place at the table, and continues to eat his own breakfast.

Potter stomps in. “ _Malfoy!_ Ministry account balances are private information!”

Draco lifts up the _Witch Weekly_. “Apparently no longer. Would you like some breakfast? The house-elves always prepare so much.”

Potter’s not even in Auror robes, and he’s grasping onto a half-eaten slice of toast on his non-wand hand.

Draco stares pointedly at the toast.

Potter has the grace to blush. He proceeds to stuff the toast in his mouth.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Take a seat, Potter. Don’t insult the house-elves.”

Potter grudgingly takes the seat across from Draco. “This is for the house-elves, not because of _you_ ,” Potter has to say before tucking into nearly _everything_.

Draco snorts and goes back to his pastry.

Potter inhales the food and stuffs his face to the point that one would think that his usual breakfast is utter shite.

Given the poor, _unbuttered_ , toast that he had in his hand a few minutes ago, Draco suspects that it is true. The poor man needs a house-elf to keep him well fed.

Draco inwardly smirks.

Potter eats and gulps down orange juice and eats some more. Then, he sets down his cutlery with a slam and stands up. “Alright, Malfoy, admit that you broke in Gringotts again.”

“And how, may I ask, did I do that?” Draco asks idly.

Potter rounds the table and grabs Draco by the scruff of his robes. “You. Tell. _Me_ ,” Potter hisses.

Draco raises an eyebrow. “I walked into Gringotts through the front doors, and the goblins took me to the Ministry vaults, and the goblins gave me the vault accounts. And I sent them to the _Witch Weekly_.”

Potter draws Draco’s face even closer. His eyes narrow, but this close, Draco can still see the green. “C’mon Malfoy, it’s not so fucking hard.”

Draco reaches out and grabs Potter’s sides. In anticipation, Potter tugs him closer. Which is _exactly_ where Draco wants to go, tilting his head for a kiss. Potter jerks back, and Draco’s lips land on Potter’s cheek.

No problem, Draco thinks. “I would prefer a date before a kiss,” he murmurs.

Potter’s cheeks heat up and he drops Draco’s robes. “Fucking hell, Malfoy!”

Draco tilts his head innocently. “Is there is problem, Auror Potter? I’m an attractive man, you’re an attractive man. If we kiss, our attractiveness would multiply.”

Potter opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again, to say, “Give me a copy of your magical signature, then. If it matches with anything at the crime scene…”

Draco widens his eyes. “You want something as _intimate_ as my magical signature? Oh my, Potter, you _are_ forward.” Draco places a hand over his heart.

Potter scowls. “Stop it. Stop it. Give it to me.”

Draco pouts, but he brings forth a touch of his pure, un-formed magic into a small sphere and floats it over to Potter. Potter conjures a jar and captures it.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Potter says rather woodenly. “I must be going.”

“Let me walk you out,” Draco says with a wink.

Potter immediately shakes his head. “No need, I remember the way. _Sorry_ to bother you.” Potter turns and scurries away.

Draco smirks outwardly.

😏😏

The house-elves jump at the idea of leaving dishes of food at Potter’s place. They easily find out where Potter lives (Number 12 Grimmauld Place), and have no problem apparating through Potter’s wards.

“How?” Draco demands of the house-elf, Milly, who was chosen to deliver food to the Chosen one.

Milly flaps her ears. “Pardon, Master Draco?”

“How can you apparate through Potter’s wards?”

“T’is house-elf magic,” Milly says. “We go through the in-between spaces that wizards forget about.”

Draco’s about to demand, but then his softens his tone, and asks, “May you please show me how?”

Nonetheless, Milly’s large eyes narrow. “What is Master Draco be doing knowing house-elf-apparition?”

“I’m not planning to _hurt_ anyone,” Draco says innocently. It’s too messy and annoying, really. “Is there anything you want in return? Or any of the house-elves, since this is a magic that you all share?”

Milly capitulates. “Yarn!” she says immediately. “We be wanting skeins and skeins of yarn.”

“Then I’ll give you all the yarn you would ever want,” Draco says graciously. “Just order and bill them to my personal vaults.”

Milly grins. “Very well, Master Draco. Our apparition is simple, but you must not wander into the dark spaces—”

😈😏

After Harry’s disastrous ~~kiss~~ meeting with Malfoy, Harry returns to Grimmauld Place, puts on his Auror robes, and heads to the Ministry proper. He logs in Malfoy’s magical sample as evidence, and spends the entire day running through all the evidence, _one more time_.

But none of them match with Malfoy’s signature.

But Harry’s not giving up, because at this point, the evidence has been inextricably tangled with _Harry’s_ magical signature due to the nature of his investigation, and Harry hasn’t the time (nor the skill) to extract it out.

It’s late by the time Harry returns—the first in many long nights, he suspects. He sheds of his Auror cloak onto the sofa, for easy-wear on the floo-out, and heads into the kitchen.

Harry narrows his eyes as he peers around the kitchen. It looks...brighter. Sparklier. He takes a closer look at the kitchen counter.

There’s no dust on it, and there’s no dirt.

Only Hermione and Ron have unfettered access to Grimmauld Place, and neither are inclined to household charms.

Harry’s stomach rumbles, and he automatically heads for the fridge and opens it, before remembering the lack of _anything_ in there—which was why he only had toast that morning before his _coerced breakfast_ at Malfoy Manor.

Except, the fridge _isn’t_ empty. There are fresh produce, and old-fashioned glass bottles of milk and orange juice, and there are glass containers with _food_.

If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think Ron and Hermione had conspired with Molly to make sure he was eating right.

But Harry _does_ know better.

This entire thing stinks of _Malfoy’s_ doing.

Harry moves to close the fridge door, but all the colours of the food stops him. It looks so enticing…

Harry pulls out his wands and casts all the revealing and anti-poison and anti-curse spells that he knows. They all come up clean.

His stomach rumbles again. He forcefully closes the fridge and starts rummaging through his cabinets and pantry, but they are as empty as they were since the morning. Unwillingly, he drifts back to the fridge and takes out all the glass containers of food onto the kitchen table.

He opens their lids, their enticing smell swirling out, and he finds a stunning array of food: from curries and stews to deep fried meats (still crispy! oh _magic_ ) and delicate desserts.

Harry eats, for he is but a mere mortal and cannot resist against all the food. The best food experience he has are the weekly lunches the Burrow, but it’s been _days_ since Sunday.

Harry’s all satisfaction, his belly full with good food. He puts back the lids on the uneaten food and places them back in the fridge; the dirty utensils and containers, he puts in the sink to deal with later.

Then, he curses Malfoy for somehow providing him such good food. Harry’s not going to fall for it again, Malfoy’s clearly trying to _bribe him_ with food.

Harry stomps off to bed.

😠😠

The next morning, Harry wakes up to a curious smell of a full English fry-up. His sniffs appreciatively and starts wandering down the stairs before he starts.

 _Malfoy!_ he curses, for upon the kitchen table is a full English, and even the dishes from last night have been washed and cleared away.

With a last yearning look at the food, Harry races up to his bedroom to dress presentably. This time, he remembers his Auror robes before he apparates to Malfoy Estate. The gates open for him, and he dashes up the now-familiar white path to the Manor house.

The front door opens and Harry staggers back. He had been expecting a house-elf, but instead, there is Malfoy, wearing a silvery night robe, feet in fluffy slippers and hair dishevelled.

Malfoy smirks lazily, giving the impression of leaning against the air. “Morning, Auror Potter. Is this a booty call?”

Harry splutters. “You can’t bribe me, try some corrupt Auror!” he spits. “I know it’s _you_.”

Malfoy brightens. “You know that I’m The One? We haven’t even started dating yet!”

Harry stomps into Malfoy Manor, explicitly avoiding touching Malfoy. He takes a few more steps, before he realises that he doesn’t know where he was planning to go, and rounds back to Malfoy, who’s a few steps behind him.

“You broke into my vault, and now you broke into my _house!_ My _house!_ That’s under _a fucking fidelius_ , that has Wards that _Bill Weasley_ helped to put in because of all the anti-Harry Potter fanatics and the reporters and the fans!”

Malfoy blinks. “Potter, are you hangry?” he asks lightly.

Harry blinks. Then, he narrows his eyes. “That’s not relevant to the _facts_.”

Malfoy smiles disarmingly. “I’ve never been invited to your house. But, I would like to know what I’ve done that has you here so early in the morning. You don’t mind if we go to the kitchen to make some tea? At this time, it’s simpler to do so than to call a house-elf and hope that they’re awake.”

Harry’s eyes widens. “ _House-elves_ ,” he breathes. “House-elves!” he repeats. “House-elves can get through wards. They can even go through Hogwarts! Malfoy, take me to your house-elves!”

Instead of getting angry or annoyed however, Malfoy starts to smirk, his eyes all bright. “You’re right. Well, let us proceed to the kitchens first.” Malfoy turns and walks away, his robes fluttering behind him enticingly.

Harry groans inwardly and walks quickly to catch up.

The Malfoy kitchens are large, though not as large as the Hogwarts Kitchens. There’s a space with human-sized items, and Malfoy starts to boil a water kettle. Harry scans the kitchens and spots a house-elf in the far end, cooking. There’s a familiar smell of a fry-up in the air.

Malfoy joins him. “Yes, that’s Milly.” Louder, Malfoy adds, “Milly, Auror Potter would like to talk to you.”

Milly apparates right in front of Harry. “Good morning sir Harry Potter,” she says, eyes round.

Harry narrows his eyes. “Have you, or any house-elf you know, been cooking food for me?” he asks sternly.

Milly’s eyes widen further, and they become shiny and wet. “Is sir angry? Is sir displeased?”

“Uh—I—” Harry glances to Malfoy.

Malfoy raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Harry looks back to Milly. “No, no, the food was really good,” he stammers out.

“Milly wants the best for sir Harry Potter! Milly saw sir Harry Potter’s kitchen and despaired!”

“That’s—that’s alright. But you don’t have to—”

“Harry Potter needs good food to be a good Auror!” Milly says, a sharper tone in her voice. “If Harry Potter is not feeding himself then Milly will!”

“Okay, thank you,” Harry says helplessly.

Milly gives a bright smile. “Is there anything else? Does Harry Potter want Milly to do his laundry? Clean his house?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no, that’s fine…”

MIlly nods, and Harry gives a sigh of relief.

“Have a good day, sir Harry Potter!” Milly says. She bows, and apparates back to her prior place in the kitchen.

Harry rounds back to Malfoy, who’s nonchalantly pouring boiling water into a clay tea-pot.

“You _knew_ ,” Harry hisses.

Malfoy swirls the tea pot and pours some tea into his cup. Then, he tips the tea out of his cup, and then pours in more tea.

Harry’s utterly perplexed. He rubs his head to clear it. “You _knew_ ,” Harry repeats. “That _your_ house-elves have broken into my home.”

Malfoy shrugs. “House-elves don’t think of it as _breaking_ into a home. If you _really_ don’t want house-elf food, you can tell her…” Malfoy smirks, and sips his tea.

“You’re infuriating,” Harry says. “I know you’re up to something. I’m going to find out. Would it kill you to be an honest citizen?”

Malfoy tilts his head. “Would you punish me if I’m not? Unfortunately, those aren’t my kinks.”

Harry flushes. “There’s nothing _sexual_ here.”

Malfoy licks his lips. “Isn’t there? Is there anything else I can help you with? Breakfast? Snogging?”

“I’m leaving,” Harry says firmly and makes his way back out without looking back.

He apparates back to Grimmauld Place, and his full-English is still there.

His stomach turns at the thought of Malfoy, but then the scent of it hits him (or rather, his stomach), and his mouth starts to salivate. Despite himself, Harry sits himself down for breakfast.

Malfoy may have won this battle, but Harry’s going to win the war.

😒😎

After Potter leaves, Draco reassures Milly that Potter _does_ appreciate the food; and Milly is convinced when she checks on Potter’s place again to find that Potter had eaten the breakfast she prepared.

Draco spends the rest of his day practicing the house-elf version of apparition. First, to get around his own property, and then to surprise Pansy at her’s. It takes a bit of work, and Draco does it on an empty stomach (lest he is undignified by puking).

Pansy’s surprise is worth the mild dizziness though, and Draco immediately downs an anti-headache potion upon arrival.

“Draco! How could you be indecorous and not inform me of your arrival?!” Pansy scowls, flicking Draco’s forehead.

“Pansy! Watch the delicate skin!” Draco protests.

Pansy rolls her eyes and turns back to her work, which, when Draco peeks over her shoulder, are lines and lines of numbers and accounting.

Draco snorts. “Accounting _again_?”

Pansy turns back to him with narrowed eyes. “Spit it out, Draco,” she threatens. “Were you able to convince the goblins to keep your accounts?”

Draco grins. “Not at all! My solution costs _me_ absolutely zero galleons, and just a little magic.”

Pansy’s on her feet. “ _Tell me!_ ”

“For a favour,” Draco says.

Pansy raises an eyebrow. “In _payment_ for _one_ of the many favours you owe _me_.”

Draco pouts. “Fine.” He shows her, and that frees up Pansy’s time—which is exactly Draco’s purpose—and as such, they go out for dinner in Paris.

😋🍽️

Draco returns to Malfoy Manor late at night. With no Potter appearing in the evening, Draco relaxes back in his favourite reclining chair with a cup of tea at hand and hacks into the Ministry again. He shakes his head with despair. Even those measley _shop keepers_ updated their wards. The Ministry is a porous cheese of wards, and with the conjured image of the Ministry and all its spells, Draco directs his nebulous avatar towards Potter’s office with ease.

Potter has new extra wards of his own in the office that prevent Draco from slipping inside, however. But, Draco’s new knowledge about house-elf magic comes in handy. Draco concentrates, and slips his avatar through the in-between space, and re-emerges it half a meter from Potter’s door: and inside Potter’s office.

Draco laughs. Potter’s office is a mess. Directing his magic through the avatar, Draco sets about tidying up Potter’s office and setting an automation spell to colour-code Potter’s files.

Draco adds a small potted succulent for a final touch, and slips-through-the-inbetween back out into the Auror department corridor.

Feeling pleased with his actions, Draco continues trawling through the Ministry spells. He wanders to the lifts, and pokes around in their magical spell that runs it. It’s a rudimentary version of Draco’s automation spells.

After being in the Auror department, Draco’s in the mood for doing a good deed. He vanishes the old elevator spell and sets out to construct a new one.

All the unfortunate late-night shift workers at the Ministry become Draco’s testers. The spell configuration engages Draco, and he makes something smoother, better, more efficient. He updates the old design to something a little more _modern_. And because he cannot help himself, he leaves a little easter egg for Harry Potter.

Draco stretches his limbs when his task is complete. The visuals of the Ministry dissipate as Draco walks through them. He yawns, and decides he deserves to sleep in.

😴💤

Harry has resigned himself to having his breakfast and dinner provided by Milly the house-elf. As long as he ignores that Milly is a Malfoy house-elf, it’s fine. All fine.

Unfortunately, Harry has had to work on other Auror cases (the Head Auror does not approve of Harry chasing around Malfoy without proof), so it’s somewhat grudgingly that Harry makes his way to the Ministry, his motivation low.

The lines to the lift are not nearly as long as they usually are, and that leaves Harry frowning. Is it some kind of special event, or holiday? He casts a _tempus_ , and it’s _definitely_ Friday. And he can’t remember any interdepartmental memo.

Harry’s soon able to enter the lift. The lift door closes, and Harry punches in the button _2_.

“ _Welcome to the British Ministry of Magic. Welcome, Auror and Saviour Harry Potter. This is Level 8, Atrium. Now approaching Level 7, Department of Magical Games and Sports._ ”

Harry starts, and the other Ministry workers in the lift give him sly looks, and a couple of them laugh.

The lift door opens, and a handful of people get off. The door closes again.

“ _This is Level 7, Department of Magical Games and Sports. Now approaching Level 5, Department of International Magical Cooperation._ ”

That’s when Harry realises that the lift is _larger_ than before, and the doors are wider. It’s more brightly lit, and there is a large panel mirror at the back. Shiny gold railings line the sides, and there’s _music_ in the background if Harry listens closely enough.

Harry can’t get out of the lift soon enough at Level 2, and he flushes when the lift-voice says, “ _Have a nice day, Auror Harry Potter. This is Level 2, Department of Magical Law Enforcement—_ ”

Harry spins around, but the lift doors have actually closed promptly.

“What the fuck?” Harry mutters. When the heck did the lift _address him by name_? It _never_ does that. It’s clear that someone’s finally updated the lifts, but for it to mention Harry…

Harry rolls his eyes. There are always more Harry-Potter-fans at the Ministry. He’ll have a word with Magical Maintenance later.

Harry detours to the break room to fix himself a large mug of tea before heading to his office. He quickly puts down his tea on his desk and turns around to shrug off his Auror robes.

He whips around again.

_There’s clear space on his desk!_

In fact, the entire room has been tidied up. His files are on the surround shelves, little tabs of colour sticking out.

 _Hermione_? he thinks first, frowning. But his wards…

Harry hisses. “Malfoy! Why…!” Fucking hell, _Malfoy’s_ probably the one who made the lift address Harry as _Saviour!_

Harry gulps down his tea and rushes over to the Head Auror office.

“It’s Malfoy again!” Harry says immediately upon seeing the Head Auror.

Head Auror Savage looks up from her papers with a disapproving look. “Malfoy junior or Malfoy senior? If it’s the junior again, I _don’t care_.”

“But he broke into my office! And rearranged it, just like my Gringotts vault. _And_ he messed with the lifts! It _talked to me!_ ”

Savage puts down her files and peers at Harry. “Did he, allegedly, take anything from your office?”

“Not that I _know_ of, but he left new stuff there. Like—like a plant that’s probably some kind of tracker!”

Savage stands up. “Show me.”

Harry quickly walks back to his office with Savage.

Savage snorts when she sees his office. “It looks a fair sight better than I’ve ever seen it. Check whether Malfoy junior _allegedly_ left anything malicious behind.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Fine. The lifts!”

They make their way to the lifts, and Harry presses the button to go up. A lift arrives very quickly, and the door slides open. Harry enters and Savage follows, a smile on her face.

“ _This is Level 2, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Welcome, Auror Harry Potter_.”

“There!” Harry says immediately. “That’s not normal!”

At least now, Savage is frowning a little. The lift door closes, and they go up a Level as Savage casts cursory spells. When they exit at Level 1, the lift says, “ _Have a good day, Auror Harry Potter_.”

Harry glares it. Savage nudges Harry back into the lift for the ride down to Level 2. At least now, Harry is prepared when the lift greets him as _Auror and Saviour Harry Potter_ , and he ignores it.

Savage is quiet as they make their way back to Savage’s office. Harry closes the door behind him, as Savage settles back behind her desk.

“Unfortunately, the lifts _are_ peculiar...Go to Magical Maintenance first, Potter. But if this is an external working, then the security of the Ministry has been highly compromised. But you mustn’t let that information out.”

“Then you believe me that it’s Malfoy’s doing?”

Savage sighs. “Look, Potter, I don’t know. If I knew everything, I’d be Santa. Get a curse-breaker, or a Charms Master, if you have to. But I won’t have you arresting Malfoy without evidence, Potter. The next election will be in the next few months, and I rather _not_ have a big outcry now.”

Harry grunts, the mention of politics souring his mood. “Alright. I’ll do that.”

“And don’t forget to work on your _other_ cases, Potter!” Savage pierces him with a sharp look.

“Yes, Head Auror,” Harry mumbles, and he flees back to his office.

He gulps down his tea and finds it tepid. Harry vanishes the damned tea and stomps (via the stairs) to Magical Maintenance.

😒😒

WIth Magical Maintenance denying any involvement in Harry’s office or the lifts, Harry sends a quick memo to the Head Auror alerting her of the situation, and then an owl to Bill Weasley. Bill isn’t available til next Tuesday, however, and so Harry sulks and works on his other cases for the rest of the day.

He goes with the other Aurors to the pub on the evening, and suffers through their laughter about the lift addressing him as _saviour_.

After, and only slightly tipsy, Harry apparates to Malfoy Manor. He makes his way up the path, and prepares himself for Malfoy behind the door, but this time, a house-elf greets him.

“Where’s Malfoy?” Harry barks. “I want to see him _now_.”

“Master Draco is about to leave for dinner with his friends,” the house-elf says, quivering.

Harry clenches his jaw. “Alright, take me to Malfoy’s parlour room, or whatever, and I’ll wait for him there. Tell him to come alone.”

“Yes, sir Harry Potter.”

The house-elf takes him to the same yellow room Harry was first taken to. When Malfoy doesn’t arrive immediately, Harry wanders around the room, and then down the corridor. He pokes his head into the rooms, and finds what must be Malfoy’s study: a frankly huge desk, with papers and books. Some of the books are open, and when Harry takes a closer look, he sees words appearing on the page automatically.

He immediately thinks of Tom Riddle’s diary, but these are no silver-tongued words. No, it’s numbers. Lots and lots of boring ass numbers. He drops a disillusioned device in one of Malfoy’s drawers.

“My, my, Potter, you must be desperate to see me,” Malfoy says. “Did you miss me that much?”

Harry jumps around, hands behind his back.

Malfoy’s all dressed up in opulent pale blue robes, buttoned up his graceful neck. Harry’s suddenly aware that his Auror robes smell.

Malfoy strides into the room, smiling. He nods towards his open books. “There’s been new spell developments that’ll sort through the accounting for you,” he murmurs. He slides towards Harry. “But that’s not what you’re here for, is it?” He’s practically purring.

Harry swallows and takes a step back, his traitorous heart thumping hard in his chest. “Malfoy. Stop it. It’s not... _funny_.”

Malfoy straightens up and shrugs. “I tried,” he says. He takes a seat on one of the chairs. “Now, how may I help you? I have a dinner date with my friends.”

“You went to my office. You _messed_ with the Ministry lifts.”

Malfoy tilts his head in a parody of innocence. “And how did I do that? I imagine you have your office wrapped up in your specialty spells.”

Harry sticks out his bottom lip. “ _I_ don’t know how, because if I did, I’d know how to stop you.”

Malfoy sighs and smiles. “Poor Potter.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “It’s the house-elves, isn’t it? I bet you had one of them apparate you in…”

“Does the Ministry monitor house-elf apparition through its very own building?”

“Not that I know of,” Harry admits. “Not _yet_ , anyhow.”

“Then maybe you should get that fixed,” Malfoy says. “It doesn’t look good for the Ministry security if anyone with a house-elf can bypass the usual wards.”

Harry regards Malfoy. Slowly, carefully, he asks, “What else should I do to help tighten the Ministry security?”

Malfoy actually _brightens_. “The Malfoy Manor has hundreds of years of wards put in place by different Malfoys throughout its history. Unfortunately, not all the wards are harmonious, and occasionally they may inadvertently cancel each other out. Perhaps you could bring in one of those Ward Specialists who advertise in the _Daily Prophet_ to give a review of the Ministry’s wards.”

Harry takes a moment to digest the words, but they’re all so _reasonable_. “Thank you, Malfoy.”

Malfoy smirks. “I rather _not_ have some miscellaneous wix breaking into the Ministry to access my confidential criminal records.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Almost all of it’s practically written all over the papers _anyway_.”

Malfoy shrugs one shoulder. “Be that as it may. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Harry sighs and shakes his head. “Not right now. I’ll let you go to your dinner with your friends.”

“How nice.” Malfoy stands up. “Shall I accompany you out?”

“No thanks, Malfoy, I’ve been here enough lately.”

Malfoy snorts. “You have. Anymore, and I may as well add you into the wards. Unless _you_ have a house-elf who can take you through wards.”

Harry gives Malfoy an incredulous look. “ _You’re_ the one with a ridiculous number of house-elves. I’ll be going now, don’t break the law, Malfoy.”

“Duly noted,” Malfoy says. He tosses Harry a small gem. “And don’t forget your tracker. Have a good evening, Potter.”

Harry pouts. “Alright, alright. I’ll see you soon,” he says, aiming for ominous, but it comes more friendly than anything. Cursing his own natural friendliness, Harry makes his own way out of the Malfoy properties and wards.

Back in Grimmauld Place, a house-elf-made dinner is waiting for him.

Malfoy’s been suspiciously helpful lately. Harry just can’t seem to understand _why_ though.

😒😑

Draco watches Potter’s receding back wistfully, but then sighs. Potter’s a lost cause on that front. Not that Draco would ever stop poking at Potter, but he’ll have to find different means to do so. It’s a challenge and a change, and Draco likes both. For now though, he’s _almost_ late for dinner with Pansy and Blaise and Greg. Luckily, they all know that he likes to arrive fashionably late.

💪😤

Come Monday morning, Draco’s hacked back into the Ministry—it’s easier every time, and he thinks he could set up an _automated_ hacking spell at this rate. He watches Potter make his way to the lifts and down to Level 2 (the lift _has_ also been modified to greet heads of departments and important members of the Wizengamot too. But also, Potter).

He follows Potter as he goes to the pitiful Auror tea room, and drinks his pitiful PG Tips tea. He raises his eyebrows as Potter tries to ask the Magical Maintenance team to look at the Ministry wards—none of whom are treating Potter _that_ seriously, for all Potter’s clout as the Saviour.

After Potter leaves, Draco makes his way to the Ministry’s filing and records. Without too much fuss, he finds his criminal file.

It’s not that people don’t _know_ Draco’s record. It’s more...the _principle_ of it all. So Draco places some extra, special wards around his own record just in case. Then, he stretches his fingers and gets to work on the Ministry.

He starts with the Department of Magical Games and Sport, because _surely_ they could take a bit of fun, right? Draco messes around, making confetti appear whenever a person walks into their tea room, and cheering sounds emerge whenever someone finishes some case file.

But, they don’t _get_ it. In fact, the Department seems to love it, and they don’t care whether or not it is due to Magical Maintenance. At this rate, Draco’ll have to put an ominous _I was here_ note for these idiots to realise that the Ministry is compromised.

What if...Draco spreads his avatar out. What if the Ministry _has already been compromised_? Draco was so sure that he was the first, the _best_.

But as past experience shows, this is not always true, unfortunately.

Mood rapidly dropping, Draco directs his avatar to find Potter, who lately has been extremely helpful in lifting Draco’s mood.

Except, Potter’s boringly in his office, working. Draco flicks a spell as Potter’s fake window to change it from the drab English countryside to a sunny Italian beach.

Potter starts. He looks to the window and pulls a face, but then gets back to work.

Draco sends a spell to refill Potter’s tea, and a spell to conjure a plate of cookies.

Potter’s half-way absentmindedly eating one of the cookies before he stops.

He frowns and looks around. “Err... Milly?” he says. “Thanks, Milly, but you really shouldn't be apparating into the Ministry...if you’re still here.” Potter shakes his head and munches on the cookie.

Draco face-palms. For once, could Potter’s paranoia about Draco actually _come out_?

With disappointment, Draco slips out of the Ministry and _finites_ the visualisation. He spends the rest of the day prototyping an automated trawler that’ll look through wards for any tampering, and sets it off on the Ministry. It’s just in time, really, for Draco to return to the tedious business of finalising the patents and finding someone to sell customer-support for him.

🙁😔

Harry meets with Bill on Tuesday as planned, and he learns about Gringott’s recent scramble to further tighten their wards.

“The Ministry needs the same,” Harry says. “Malfoy’s been getting in and out...don’t tell anyone else this.”

Bill gives Harry a sharp look however. “ _Malfoy_? What—how? Do you think he’s behind the break-in?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yes, definitely. He’s rearranged my vault... _and_ my Ministry office. It’s definitely the same wizard, and it’s definitely him.”

“I’ll check if his vaults have any unusual activities of late, then,” Bill says, noting it down.

“We’ll also like whoever’s worked on Gringott’s wards to work on the Ministry’s too,” Harry adds.

Bill snorts. “The goblins work on their own wards. And somehow, I don’t think you could convince them to help the humans of the British Ministry. Not unless you paid them _serious_ gold, and returned basically all their original treasure.”

“And _that’s_ not going to happen any time soon,” Harry groans. “Do you at least know any serious, trustworthy people I could call in? Malfoy suggested those ones who advertise in the _Daily Prophet_. But I rather _not_ ask around too much lest the media catch wind of it.”

“I’ll find some names,” Bill promises. “But. Did you know that Malfoy _applied_ to train as cursebreaker, years ago?”

Harry stares as Bill. “ _Really_?”

Bill nods. “Yeah. I heard he also applied for charms, arithmancy, and potions training. But he didn’t get any of them. I don’t know why he applied in the first place, really, since the Malfoys are _loaded_. _And_ they have so many businesses and holdings that it’ll take an age to sort through all that money.”

Harry clears his throat. “Actually, I went to Malfoy’s place. He has this spell that automatically writes his accounts for him.”

“Well, there are calculation charms, and the goblins also have spells that keep a constant record of the gold and items in your vaults.”

Harry shrugs. “It looked like it was was writing _everything_ though.” Harry kind of wants a spell that’ll write his reports for him...Merlin, wouldn’t that be nice...but he’d have to ask Malfoy about it—wait, no, he could ask _Hermione_.

“Harry, do you _trust_ Draco Malfoy?” Bill asks abruptly.

Harry’s about to say, _no_ , but all the recent events stop him. “Depends,” he finally says. “I trust him to be up to something.”

“See, if _Malfoy’s_ the one breaking in, he would be the person to help you fix the wards. But you have to be careful, lest he builds in a secret tunnel for himself.”

Harry pulls a face. “That sounds like him. And it’s not like Malfoy Manor, where he has a vested interest.”

For the fleetest of moments, Harry entertains the thought of _seducing_ Malfoy into helping him properly. But he quickly discards it, because, just, no.

“Well, all the best, Harry,” Bill says.

🤔😓

Draco glances up at Pansy’s arrival. “Hello, fancy seeing you here so early.”

“Something’s wrong with your spell,” Pansy says immediately. “The numbers add up, but the numbers themselves are smaller than they _should_ be.”

“My spells aren’t _wrong_.”

“Yes, well, _something’s_ wrong. The growth in my fixed term deposit isn’t following the projected _fixed interest rate_.”

Draco stands. “Very well. Let’s see.”

They both floo back to Pansy’s place, and after duplicating the account books, they pour over them. Indeed, everything checks out in the books—there’s no apparent withdrawals that would decrease the amount in the vaults. But the compound interest calculations don’t match.

“Merlin!” Pansy exclaims. She fiddles with the calculation, and grabs Draco by the arm. “Someone’s messed with the percentage! Your spell rounds up, but instead of a solid final zero digit on the percent, the compound interest has been downgraded to 0.5-many-zeros-1! Some bastard’s been lopping off my interest.”

“The goblins, though? They wouldn’t—”

Pansy shakes her head. “It was fine, until literally this morning. It’s something new. Someone got in.”

Draco frowns at the numbers. “In solid amounts, it’s not that much, especially since it’s only been a day. Whoever’s doing this isn’t getting that much...unless they’re shaving a couple point-percentages off _a lot_ of accounts.”

“Do you think they got yours, too?”

Draco’s lips draw into a thin line. “ _Oh_ , if they did, they’re going to pay—ah, not that they won’t pay back what they owe you, of course,”

Pansy slumps back in her chair. “Maybe I should have gone to a Muggle banking group. Gringotts is supposed to be...solid. Aside from the Gryffindor’s dragon heist. And aside from the anonymous publishing of the Ministry vault figures…” Pansy groans. “Ugh, Gringotts is not secure after all!”

“I’m going to make our vaults safe,” Draco vows.

“How?” Pansy demands.

Seeing an opportunity, Draco says, “I’ll tell you...for a favour.”

Pansy gives him a piercing look. “Fine. For a favour.”

Draco leans forward. “ _I_ was the one who published the Ministry vault figures. I can get into Gringotts.”

“Draco! How could you not tell me this earlier?”

“You mustn’t tell Potter,” Draco adds. “He knows it’s me, but he has no evidence. Don’t become that evidence.”

Pansy rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Draco. I would help you bury Potter’s body if it comes to that. Now, tell me _how_ you break into Gringotts. And let me help.”

Draco waves a finger at her. “Now that’s _another_ favour.”

Pansy shrugs. “Fine. You still owe me a heap, though, from Hogwarts.”

“But I’m making good progress, aren’t I?” Draco says lightly. “Let’s go back to the Manor, and I’ll show you.”

Pansy’s a quick learner when she wants to be. Draco learns that his own vaults _are also_ compromised, so while Pansy takes the job of hunting down the various staff to see if any of them played a role, Draco’s poking at the spells surrounding the vaults and putting in layers of nets and authentication and checking spells.

At lunch, they convene. Pansy believes that it’s not anyone in Gringotts. And Draco tells her that the money from her vault, and from Draco’s, had gone into two separate accounts of some shopkeepers, and the amount subsequently withdrawn; and that those shopkeeper’s accounts have likely been hacked as well.

“We should tell Gringotts,” Pansy says heavily.

“A political nightmare,” Draco sighs.

“Our accounts probably aren’t the only ones. And _they_ need to be the ones, really, to fix up their wards.”

“Then Pansy, why don’t _you_ go down a tell them?”

Pansy raises her nose into the air. “I _will_.”

😤🏦

Harry makes his way to the Head Auror’s office in trepidation.

There’s a dark look on Savage’s face, and Harry unwillingly closes the door behind him.

“Are you sure Malfoy’s the one behind the break-ins?”

Uncertainly, Harry nods.

“ _Well_ , he’s done something else. Minister Shacklebolt arrived this morning and found all his files covered in threats.” She floats one such file to Harry.

Words like soldiers march across the page. _I AM WATCHING YOU_.

Harry feels sick.

But it doesn’t feel like Malfoy’s work. Malfoy’s...too _elegant_ for the ugly font of the words.

“Whoever had accessed to the files could well have a _copy_ of them. These are _highly sensitive_ documents, Potter, and _can not_ be published to the public.”

“I haven’t been able to determine a person—or team—of people to work on the wards,” Harry says tentatively.

Savage frowns. “I’ll alert the security division to get on this post-haste. But now I need _you_ to analyse this.”

“I have a sample of Malfoy’s magic, actually,” Harry says. “He gave it willingly to me.”

“Then go, and come back when you have results.”

Harry does so, and comes back with a negative. There’s not a trace of Malfoy’s signature on the file.

“Keep that file,” Savage orders. “Your most urgent task is to find out _who_ and _how_ this was able occur. All your other cases will be re-distributed to other Aurors. If you do not want this, then I will find another Auror.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I can do it. I’ve been tracking Malfoy’s previous break-ins anyhow.”

“Very well, dismissed.”

As before, however, Harry comes up with no evidence. At wits end, he decides to ask Hermione.

🤔🤔

Harry shows the words on the file to Hermione, who frowns.

“That looks a lot like Comic Sans,” she mutters.

“What?” Harry and Ron say simultaneously.

“It’s an infamous font on Muggle computers,” Hermione says. She nods to herself. “Yes, it definitely looks like it. If so, it suggests that whoever’s behind this knows how to use a muggle computer.”

“Do you think Malfoy knows?” Harry asks idly.

Hermione snorts. “No, I highly doubt it. Malfoy Manor’s probably soaked in magic, and there’s no way any muggle device would work in _that_ environment.”

Harry slumps. “I don’t think it’s Malfoy.”

Hermione and Ron exchange glances.

“You _don’t_ think it’s Malfoy?” Ron asks.

“It _is_ possible that Malfoy has come in contact with Muggles. They also use this font on their printed materials, so Malfoy needn’t have used a muggle computer,” Hermione adds.

Harry shakes his head. “Why now? Malfoy’s been breaking into the Ministry for _weeks_ beforehand. Hell, his house-elves have been making me breakfast and dinner for a while! And have you ever seen the man, or his handwriting? He wouldn’t do something like _this_. He _always_ writes in cursive.”

“You thought he was behind those earlier attacks,” Hermione says, eyebrows drawing together.

“Making you breakfast and dinner?” Ron says, eyes wide.

“I’ve never seen Malfoy’s handwriting,” Hermione adds. “I haven’t seen Malfoy for years, as a matter of fact.”

“Yes, well, it’s not him,” Harry says morosely.

“I imagine you would know,” Hermione says tentatively.

“Since you’re the expert on Malfoy and all,” Ron says plainly.

Harry pulls a face at them. “I’m _not_. I just know what Malfoy’s handiwork looks like. Namely, poking at _me_.”

“With his...wand?” Ron winces.

Harry splutters. “Come _on_ , are you going to help me or not?”

“Unfortunately, it appears that the faster way is for you to enlist Malfoy’s help. If he’s gotten in before, he’ll know where the gaps are,” Hermione tells him.

“I feared so,” Harry sighs. “Is there anything way else you can help me?”

Hermione reaches out for the file, which Harry hands to her.

“I’ll try to distill the magical signatures,” she says.

“How about some recording devices from the Wheezes? I could give you a couple, and you can set them out to see who’s breaking in,” Ron offers.

Harry frowns. “I might have to check with Ministry security, but I’ll take you up on it, for my office at least.”

“Will do,” Ron says. “Now, can we have dinner?”

🤔🤔

After Pansy’s return from Gringotts, Draco attempts to slip through the Gringotts wards remotely. He is unable to go through his past routes, which signifies that Gringotts _is_ doing something.

That’s when the Malfoy Manor wards alerts Draco of Potter’s arrival. Draco sighs. For once, Potter’s come at the bad time.

“What is it?” Pansy asks.

“Potter’s here. I’ll have to speak to him.”

“Move over, then, and _I’ll_ try at the wards.”

“Make your _own_ remote avatar then,” Draco says, dissipating his own.

Pansy smirks. “Of course I am, your one is so pitiful.”

Draco pouts, but leaves her be. He makes sure to lock the door behind him, lest Potter stumble upon it, and moves to intercept Potter at the daisy yellow receiving room. They meet in the corridor.

Potter looks down and out, like a kicked puppy.

“Do you want a cheering charm?” Draco offers, as he steers Potter into the daisy yellow room. “Or a chocolate cookie?”

Potter doesn’t say anything, so Draco calls Milly to provide tea and cookies.

Potter takes some tea, and a cookie. He appears to be thinking, even as he stares at Draco.

Draco turns his head away a little, to show Potter his best side.

“Malfoy, have you been in the Ministry lately?” Potter finally asks.

“Yes, actually, to file some patents,” Draco replies.

“You haven’t been to the _Minister’s_ office, have you?”

Draco regards Potter. “No, I have not had that opportunity,” he says truthfully.

Potter grimaces. “What I’m going to say and show you next is confidential information.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “Then shall I promise a Wizard’s oath?”

“No, I... _trust_ you,” Potter says, voice strained.

Draco snorts. “Very well.”

Potter pulls out a file that has been desecrated and hands it to Draco. Draco takes it with distaste.

“What is this horrid thing?”

“ _That_ is one of the Minister’s files. Someone broke in and wrote that over _all_ of the Minister’s files a few days ago. But we don’t know who, because no-one entered Kingsley’s office between the time he left and the time returned the next morning. Hermione says the font is Comic Sans, a muggle computer thing.”

Draco hands the file back to Potter. “A house-elf could get through the wards.”

Potter grimaces. “I know. You _do_ realise that the people who own house-elves are mostly... _you_?”

“Yes, well, I don’t have such horrible taste. And for a Minister, Shacklebolt is a surprisingly competent one.”

Potter cracks a weak smile. “Yeah. I…”

Draco leans forward. “Potter, you seem to realise that I’m _not_ behind this atrocity. Is there anything I can actually help you with? For once, I’m actually quite busy.”

Potter opens his mouth, then stops. “Busy? But you have those spells.”

Draco wrinkles his nose. “Unfortunately, they merely record and calculate. They cannot check whether their source data is tampered. Someone’s been skimming off my vaults.”

“A handful of galleons?” Potter shakes his head. “I _unfortunately_ do need your help. To find who did this.”

Draco blinks. “You. Harry Potter wants _my_ help?” Draco tilts his head back. “What has the world come to?”

“Bloody hell, Malfoy! This is serious! Whoever did this got through the Ministry wards. They got through the Minister’s Office!”

Draco sighs. It _is_ serious. “Very well, I shall offer you my services. For a favour.”

Potter narrows his eyes. “What favour?”

Draco shrugs. “I’m sure I’ll require a favour in the future.”

“As long as it’s not _illegal_ ,” Potter grimaces. “And as long as it doesn’t involve hurting anyone.”

“ _Two_ favours-with-conditions, then,” Draco says.

Potter glares at him.

“Cookie?” Draco offers.

“ _FINE_ ,” Potter growls. “Merlin and hell, can’t you just do it out of the goodness of your heart? When can you start? What do you need?”

Draco thinks about Pansy, but she can continue on her own. “Immediately. I would like to go to the Minister’s Office.”

“Alright.” Potter stands up. “Let’s go.”

🤨🤔

Harry keeps a close eye on Malfoy as they make their way to the Ministry. Predictably, Malfoy smirks when the lift greets Harry.

“That’s _your_ fault,” Harry mutters.

Malfoy winks.

Harry rolls his eyes. Malfoy has good as _admitted_ to it all, but aside from Malfoy’s _body language_ , Harry had no concrete evidence on him. He suspects that one of Malfoy’s favours might be cashed in as some kind of immunity.

Kingsley had been moved after the security breach, so Harry gains access to the Minister’s Office easily enough. Malfoy doesn’t immediately go in though, instead muttering to himself and narrowing his eyes at the empty space around the office. Harry’s entertaining the thought of going to grab himself some tea, when Malfoy _finally_ enters through the door.

It’s the first time Harry’s actually been inside for a while, actually, and he’s shocked to realise that the words have also been scrawled across the walls and the plants and the charmed window.

Malfoy makes a circuit of the room, his lips twisting into a frown. “Potter, close the door.”

Harry compiles, and Malfoy pulls out his wand. A spell later has Harry’s eyes widening. Suddenly, there are runes and words twisting and swirling and crawling over _everything_.

“One method of visual representation of spells,” Malfoy says. He goes over to the Minister’s desk and takes a seat in the Minister’s chair. With his long fingers, Malfoy’s poking through the layers of spells. Harry watches, but understands nothing of it.

“Here we are…” Malfoy tugs and a spell bursts, spelling out words in the air.

_I AM 4N0N_

“Four-non?” Harry mutters.

“ _A_ non,” Malfoy says. “Anonymous. Well, clearly.” Malfoy rolls his eyes.

“So, how did this _Anon_ -figure get in?”

Malfoy snorts. “That’s _easy_. The Ministry wards have so many back doors they may as well be front doors. And the charmed window here? It’s linked up to all the charmed windows in the Ministry. So you just need to get to one window, follow the spell, and emerge inside this office, completely bypassing all the other extra wards.”

Harry rubs his forehead. “This is becoming a pain.”

“The signature has a magical residue. Unfortunately, it’s extremely easy to put fake magical signatures over a spell.”

Harry rubs his eyes. “Thanks for telling me, I’m sure the fucking Auror department would like to know that.”

Malfoy slants him a look. “I agreed to find your culprit, however, so I will do so.”

“Can you fix the Minister’s wards too?”

Malfoy smirks. “Now _that_ would cost you another favour or three. No, we’re better off leaving it. We need a…” Malfoy trails off and chuckles to himself. He leans back in the chair. “Potter, fetch me some tea.”

“Err, I don’t know if I can leave you in the Minister’s office…”

“I’m busy,” Malfoy says absently. All the spell-visualisations around him have enlarged in size, with more colours and shapes and patterns, and they’re all shifting under his fingers.

Harry sticks out his tongue at him and trots off to fetch Malfoy (and himself) a cup of tea.

🙄☕

Watching Malfoy gets boring, and Harry has to later fetch them food, and then Harry just leaves Malfoy to go look at the list of Wards Specialists that Bill had given him. A few of them are Unspeakables, but predictably, the Unspeakables won’t let Harry down to Level 9 to even speak to them, let alone convince them to help.

The day draws to a close, and Harry’s back in the Minister’s Office, with Malfoy in virtually the same position, only know the landscape of spells has grown around him into a veritable city.

“Are you finished yet?” Harry complains.

“I was _working_ ,” Malfoy says archly, even as he collapses all the visualisations. “The magical residue took me on a maze-chase around the Ministry, before ending in a Ministry auto- _vanishing_ trash can. And I was studying the _style_ of the spell composition that was all over the walls.” He stands up and stretches, all long lines and limbs and grace.

Harry chokes.

Malfoy shoots him a curious look.

“Choked on my saliva,” Harry mutters. “Get some sleep Malfoy, I’ll meet you down at the Atrium tomorrow morning.”

Malfoy nods easily, and Harry makes sure Malfoy leaves the Ministry first before Harry leaves himself.

😩🏠

Draco doesn’t get sleep. Instead, he’s updating himself on Pansy’s progress, comparing the spell compositions between 4non and the person who’d skimmed their accounts, and hacking himself into the Ministry to continue to work a trap that’ll catch this _Anon_ who cannot even _spell_ , for Merlin’s sake.

😤🙄

“POTTER!”

Harry freezes upon arrival of Level 2.

Savage is striding towards him. “Potter, my office, _now_.” She scrunches the newspaper in her hand.

Harry half-runs towards her office and the door slams shut behind them. “What happened?”

Savage presses out the _Daily Prophet_ on the table.

Harry looks at it, confused. The front page is about a Celestina Warbeck concert. “Is she behind it?”

“Open to the second page,” is Savage’s frosty reply.

Harry does so, and is faced with a picture of the desecrated Minister’s Office, with all his files still there.

_**MINISTER FOR MAGIC’S OFFICE VANDALISED! THE MINISTRY HAS BEEN HACKED!** _

_Written by Anonymous_

Harry sucks in a breath, his eyes skipping over the words. _Hacked_ — _the Ministry is not safe_ — _no-one is safe_.

“Potter, I can count the number of people who could know about this with one hand,” Savage says darkly. “I know you let Malfoy Junior into the office yesterday.”

“You-you think _I_ leaked the information?”

“Malfoy.”

Harry shakes his head. “But the office didn’t look like this yesterday. All those files—they weren’t there. This must have been taken _before_ Kingsley came back to his office. And the writer—anonymous. Malfoy found the call-signature, they call themselves _Anon_.”

Savage’s jaw tightens. “You’re going to the _Prophet_ offices. You’re going to have them retract this article, and you’re going to find out _who_ sent this in.”

“They’re not going to like it…” Harry mutters.

“Take one for the team, Potter, and offer them an interview if you have to.”

Harry grimaces. “I’ll have to.”

He leaves Savage’s office in a bad mood, and bumps into Malfoy at the Atrium. Malfoy’s looking all shiny and perky.

“I have to head out,” Harry says tiredly.

Malfoy pulls out the _Daily Prophet_.

Harry nods reluctantly. “I’ll take you to the Minister’s Office first then, but after that, I’ll have to go.”

Malfoy waves a dismissive hand. “I’m coming with you to the _Daily Prophet_ offices.”

Harry shakes his head. “This is _serious_.”

“Which is the exact _opposite_ of the image you want to portray,” Malfoy says. “You need to make it a joke, so make the _Prophet_ think they’ve been duped. They’re going to be humiliated, instead of hunting and sniffing this up like hungry vultures.”

Harry’s about to agree, just because he doesn’t want to waste his energy arguing with Malfoy, when he remembers Malfoy’s own words. Giving Malfoy a sly grin, Harry says, “You can come. For a favour.”

Malfoy laughs. “Catching the Slytherin,” he says, smirking. “Very well, for a favour.”

Together, they leave the Ministry to Harry apparates to them to the too-familiar-for-Harry’s-liking _Daily Prophet_ offices.

The receptionist, one Alisha White, jumps up at Harry’s arrival.

“Mr Potter! How may we help you?”

Harry’s about to speak, but Malfoy budges in front of him. “ _Actually_ , I would like word with your editor about a certain _disgrace_ in your papers today,” Malfoy drawls. “Publishing _clearly_ falsified information, I have in mind to tell all my friends to read _Witch Weekly_ instead!”

White sours. “Who are you? And do you have an appointment?”

Malfoy’s eyes narrow and he draws himself to his full height. “I am Draco Lucius Narcissa Malfoy, and I _will_ see the chief editor _immediately_.”

Harry snorts under his breath. “Please?” Harry says to White. “We’ll be quick.”

White’s conflicted. “For you, Mr Potter,” she finally says. She taps her wand on something behind the counter and produces two tokens for Harry and Malfoy. “You can go up to the editor’s office now.”

Malfoy leaves Harry to take the tokens, and they go up the lifts.

“Malfoy—”

Malfoy raises an eyebrow. “If I were the _Daily Prophet_ , I would have recording spells in the lifts. Just in case.”

Harry snaps his mouth close.

The editor’s office is on the top floor.

“Mr Potter!” Barnabas Cuffe greets Harry.

Harry forces himself to shake hands with him.

“And Mr Malfoy,” Cuffe continues. He’s much less exuberant about shaking Malfoy’s hand.

“I’m here about the disgrace on your second page,” Malfoy says immediately.

Cuffe reddens. “Ah, yes, I—”

“ _Clearly_ , someone has taken a picture of the Minister’s Office and used a muggle computer to doctor it with that horrible font of words. The image is even _static_ , for horror’s sake! Is it even the Minister’s office? Muggle cameras cannot work in a place like the _Ministry_.”

Cuffe is glancing nervously between Harry and Malfoy, and finally, he bursts, “I didn’t approve it, all right? The printer intern has already been suspended! The second page article was supposed to be about the Yearly Largest Cucumber Competition, and the Cucumber Competition Committee have been flooding me with owls since the papers went out!”

Malfoy snorts. “And can a printer intern modify the spells you have on the final proof of the newspaper before it goes out to print? No, it’s _you_ , Mr Cuffe. Don’t be so lowly as to accuse an _intern_.”

“It was not!” Cuffe denies.

Malfoy sniffs. “Let’s go to _Witch Weekly_ , Potter. I’m sure they’ll _love_ to know about Mr Cuffe’s so-called mistake.”

“Mr Potter, it was not _me_ ,” Cuffe pleads.

Harry attempts to put on a stern expression. “Can you retract the article, immediately? The public is much more forgiving if you own up, rather than having it covered by another newspaper in some sordid article.”

Cuffe nods quickly. “Consider it done!”

Malfoy puts his nose in the air. “I shall hope so, Mr Cuffe. Come, Potter.” And Malfoy marches out again.

Harry quickly follows him out and back onto the street. Malfoy suddenly holds out his hand.

“Er, what?”

“We’re going to Malfoy Manor.”

Narrowing his eyes, Harry accepts Malfoy’s arm. They appear in a different room, with shelves of books and reclining chairs.

Malfoy calls for a house-elf to tea.

“The _Prophet’s_ offices wards are only a tiny bit better than the Ministry’s,” Malfoy says immediately. “I also took the opportunity to take a couple of spell scans while we were in Cuffe’s office.” Malfoy waves a hand, and a sphere springs up around them.

“Wards?” Harry frowns, trying to think of when Malfoy had time to do all that.

“Closed-wards,” Malfoy says. “No outer opening. Completely multi-dimensional closed-circuit. It includes even the in-between spaces—I tested it with the house-elves.” He produces a small ball of magic. “When I release this, this could be infectious and break through _my_ wards. So with this sphere around us it will be contained.”

Malfoy twists the small ball in his hand, and lines of magic emerge out. Malfoy narrows his eyes at it and tugs at it.

He pulls out a small spell that bursts in a familiar light.

_I AM 4N0N_

Malfoy scoffs. “They clearly haven’t learnt how to spell better.” He vanishes the spell call and everything else he’d taken from the _Daily Prophet office_.

Harry clenches his fist. “It’s the same person. What do they _want_?”

“Given the article in the paper? Fame and notoriety, by the looks of it,” Malfoy says drily. “But they really should have made their call-signature more obvious.”

Harry waves a hand at the ball around them. “Can you put this in the Minister’s Office? And around the Ministry?”

Malfoy gives a wry look. “No. No one can get in or out while this is up.”

“Then _how_..!”

Malfoy suddenly pat’s Harry’s knee, making Harry jump at the contact.

“Don’t worry Potter, I have it under control. I’m setting a trap.” Malfoy smirks, all self-satisfied.

“How? And what’s your _lure_?”

“Anon’s going to be back, don’t you worry. I’ll set the trap in the Minister’s office, and the Head Auror’s, and a couple of other top-figures,” Malfoy says. “I need _you_ at hand to apprehend this character in person.”

Harry jumps to his feet. “Right away.”

“—Once all the preparations are up.” Malfoy dissipates the ward around them. “I’ll contact you.”

“You don’t need to be at the Ministry?”

Malfoy winks. “No, I do not.”

Harry is so unamused. “You know, I _know_ you’re the one who messed with my vault and my office.”

Malfoy winks again.

Harry points a finger at Malfoy. “Just you wait, after all of this, you’re _next_.”

😒👉

Draco sighs happily after Potter leaves. It’s always so lively with him around. Unfortunately, he has work to do.

😘😁

Despite the _Daily Prophet_ ’s retraction, the damage has been done, and other papers and reporters jump on the wavering support for Kingsley, and the next day, the papers are flooded with articles pointing all the things they don’t like about Kingsley, and there are some papers calling for an early re-election.

Down at the Ministry itself, Harry’s one of the many Aurors who have had to hold back the wave of people who have come to the Ministry to protest or to complain.

Meanwhile, Head Auror Savage is now a constant presence by Kingsley’s side, holding press conference after press conference.

In the morning, before Harry had come down the Ministry, Malfoy had owled Harry a small device: a small pin that would allow Harry to communicate to Malfoy. The note had said, _Put it on, don’t take it off, and_ _await my call_.

Harry’s now impatiently waiting for that call, before standing guard in the Ministry atrium is _boring as heck_.

As lunch approaches, the crowds finally thin out as nothing new happens and everyone gets hungry. Harry gets a memo from Savage to meet her in her office, and he gratefully leaves the Atrium.

In her office, she and Kingsley are deep in conversation.

“Potter, what’s the update?”

Harry, now aware that there might be _eavesdropping_ spells around them, shrugs helplessly. “We know the person behind the break-in and the newspaper article are the same, but all traces on their signature lead nowhere.”

A memo suddenly flies into the office and lands in front of Kingsley.

“How—open it, Kingsley,” Savage says tersely.

Gravely, Kingsley opens the memo. “Step down, or all your documents will be published en-mass on the Internet and everyone will know,” Kingsley reads out.

 _Internet_? Harry thinks. It’s very...muggle. It reminds him of what Hermione said, about the muggle font.

“ _Potter! I need you in action now!_ ” Malfoy’s voice suddenly says into his ear.

“Shit!” Harry curses. “I—I need to go.”

“Potter, this is _serious_ ,” says Savage.

“ _Now_ , _Potter!_ ” comes a second voice that sounds familiar but Harry cannot place.

“Sorry!” Harry says, and backs out Savage’s office.

“ _Who’s this_?” Harry mutters into the device.

“ _Pansy Parkinson,_ ” the second voice snaps. “ _Now listen up, Draco’s on the trail, and we need_ you _down on the ground. Head out to Muggle London immediately! Don’t act suspicious! Anon may be watching through the Ministry surveillance spells!_ ”

“Right,” Harry mutters, and slows down to a normal walk. Adrenaline is pumping through his veins, and he presses down the urge to laugh as he walks through the Ministry. “Just grabbing lunch,” he tells some of the Aurors still on guard duty.

“Lucky,” one mutters.

Harry grins, and remembers to shrug off his Auror robes before heading out.

🐉

Meanwhile, Draco’s in his chair beside Pansy. The moment Anon’s memo enters the Head Auror’s office, Draco catches on the edge of Anon’s link, and Draco’s fingers fairly zip through magical space as he latches on a spell trace and flies down the connection. The visualisation of the Ministry flashes by and then it’s a near magical desert of Muggle London.

He’s only dimly aware of Pansy’s own visualisation, which is a more zoomed-out version of Draco’s, showing Potter’s location as well as a sudden bright dot on the Muggle streets.

“ _Head straight down the street, Potter!_ ” Pansy says over the closed-circuit communication loop. “ _Turn into the alleyway, apparation coordinates pending._ ”

Draco hisses when the spell link starts to retract, and he latches a trap fragment onto the link. The whole thing whips and vanishes from Draco’s visualisation, until Draco snaps to the location of the trap fragment. The fragment hovers in the air against a wall of wards surrounding an otherwise entirely muggle looking house in the London suburbs.

“ _Coordinates incoming!_ ” Pansy snaps out the numbers.

And Draco wonders if this person...has ever thought about the abilities of house-elves before.

⚡

Harry quickly disillusions himself. He takes a moment to memorise the coordinates before apparating. He’s surprised to find himself surrounded by large, fancy houses. The streets are quiet, but they are lined with shiny cars.

“ _Number 7! Approach with caution!_ ”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m an _Auror_ ,” he mutters as he strides down the street. He feels the buzz of wards against his skin immediately. Unlike Malfoy’s wards, which were soft and smooth, these ones feel like a wall of fire.

“ _Don’t get closer,_ ” Parkinson says. “ _Watch out, Muggle approaching from behind._ ”

Harry jumps out of the way just as a Royal Mail postie trundles down with their red trolley. They stop at Number 7 and pulls out a two large boxes and an assortment of smaller parcels. Sighing, they go through the tiny front gate and up the steps, completely unaware of having passed through a _fire wall_.

Harry narrows his eyes.

The postie knocks on the door. After a moment, they put down their parcels and take out a small rectangular card, and start to scribble on it. They slip it through the mail flap, and are just about to go down the steps again when the door opens.

“Couldn’t you wait just a minute longer?” the man snaps. It’s a white man, with light brown hair slicked back.

“Sorry mate,” the postie mutters, handing over the pile of parcels. “Sign here, please.”

The man signs and slams the door shut. The postie scoffs and makes their way down the stairs and away to the next house.

🐉

The muggle human-owl-equivalent is the exact person Draco needs. The wards part for the muggle human, and Draco slips in a spell hidden inside one of the boxes—it’s a muggle box filled with an assortment of Japanese confectionary, for some peculiar reason.

Anon—the address on the parcels say _Morris Longson_ —carries the boxes inside the house, and through the link Draco’s now established, he sends out a handful of surveillance charms. The house is neat and tidy and very much like the unused rooms in Malfoy Manor, if it weren’t for all their muggleness.

Longson’s room, however, is a mess. Posters of scantily clad cartoon women—if they could even be _called_ women, since they look like adolescents at best—cover the walls, and there’s even a _pillow_ with such an image on Longson’s bed. Longson’s bin is overflowing with tissues, making Draco wonder if Longson’s even a proper wizard. He wants to scream, _use a vanishing spell!_

Longson drops all the parcels on the bed and turns back to his muggle laptop. Draco nudges his surveillance over, and he sees lines of Latin spells and English words across the screen.

Draco smirks inwardly. Draco’s version of visualisation is _so much better_.

“ _Draco, how are you on getting in?_ ” Pansy’s voice interrupts Draco’s gloating.

Draco draws away from his visualisation, blinking in real life. “Wait. Let me tag down the _evidence_ first.” He snaps his fingers and sends down the duplication automatons.

⚡

Harry ignores Malfoy’s and Pansy’s following banter. He’s still curious about how the muggle postie was able to past through. Was it the _lack_ of magic? In that case, if only Harry knew a muggle police officer...but the only muggles Harry comes in contact occasionally are Hermione’s parents. He races after the postie, who is still longsufferingly delivering multiple parcels to the houses further down the street. Quietly, Harry duplicates the uniform and the trolley.

After the postie turns to the next street, Harry quickly strips and swaps his clothes for the Royal Mail uniform before breaking the disillusionment spell on himself.

“What’s the name of that guy?” Harry mutters into the device. “And what’s the street called?”

“ _Morris Longson_ ,” Malfoy says.

“ _7 Penington Palace, NW123_ ,” Parkinson says.

Harry grabs one of the duplicated parcels from inside the red trolley and changes the TO address.

“ _Potter, what the fuck are you doing?!_ ”

“Don’t mind me,” Harry says. “I won’t die, will I?” He pushes the trolley up to Number 7. Pulling the cap down a little, he takes out the doctored parcel and reaches out for the gate. He clenches against the burn, but when the uniform comes in contact, the wards open a little as they ‘recognise’ him and Harry’s able to get in.

Harry grins, and walks up the steps. He knocks on the door.

🐉

Draco rolls his eyes at Potter’s utter sheer nerve. At Potter’s knock, Longson grumbles. He leaves his muggle laptop and stomps out, muttering, “What now?”

Draco takes the opportunity to flood down his latest automaton development. The tiny little automatons start building lock-down wards around the muggle laptop. Just in case Longson was smart enough to add a self-destruct feature—of course, Draco has self-cleaning feature for his visualisations, for the unlikely scenario that Aurors _actually_ catch wind of Draco’s activities.

Beside him, Pansy’s slipped inside the wards too. “ _The wards all originate from that device. Longson’s at the door now, Potter._ ”

Draco nods, and prepares to to snap all the wards around the laptop.

⚡

Harry knocks at the door quickly at Parkinson’s words, which undoubtedly make Longson even angrier.

“I forgot this,” Harry says, offering over the parcel.

“Yeah, thanks,” Longson says. He slams the door. Then he opens it again. “ _Harry Potter?!_ ”

Harry nods. “You’re under arrest for vandalism of the Minister for Magic’s Office.”

“ _And for stealing from Gringotts vaults_ ,” Parkinson adds.

“And for stealing from Gringotts vaults,” Harry dutiful adds.

Longson snarls. He whips out his wand—

🐉

Draco snaps the lock down shields and the fire wall dissipates with nary a whisper—

⚡

Harry casts an incarcerous around Longson—

⚜️

And Pansy drops down heavy anti-apparition wards.

⚡

“What?” Longson splutters as he twists and falls down.

Harry shrugs. “Sorry, mate.” He casts a patronus to call the other Aurors onto scene.

“ _Not a whisper of my involvement_ ,” Parkinson mutters into his ear.

“ _Unfortunately, I have already been seen around the Ministry_ ,” Malfoy says.

“You’re my ‘consultant’,” Harry says back to Malfoy. “Meet me at the Ministry.”

Longson is glaring at him. “Who the fuck are you talking to? Fuck, am I on _camera_?”

Large cracks down the street signal the arrival of Aurors.

“ _Listen to what I say when it comes to handling the evidence_ ,” Malfoy says archly. “ _I don’t trust those other oafs_.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Aww, how sweet, Malfoy. That means you trust me!”

The communication line is suspiciously silent, and Harry grins.

🤣🎉

As it turns out, Morris Longson is a muggleborn, from an upperclass family given the house, who’d been given coding and programming classes when he was younger. Dissatisfied with the British Wizarding World (and with his lack of financial wealth and social power in the the British Wizarding World compared to that in the Muggle world), he used Muggle electronic infiltration techniques and turned them against Gringotts and the Ministry.

Apparently, his plans were for complete anarchy and delocalisation of power...at least until _he_ could arrive on scene with The Solution.

Longson admits none of this, of course, but the documents Harry finds on his laptop—with another muggleborn Auror’s help—are damning.

✌️👋

“You are forgiven for your impolite exit the other day,” Savage says, just the two of them in her office for the wrap-up of the case. “We cannot have another Morris Longson. The Ministry Wards are in dire need of an overhaul.”

Over the communication device, Malfoy snorts.

“Malfoy says we have to take them down and build up again,” Harry says dutifully.

Savage narrows her eyes. “He’s listening to us right now, isn’t he?”

Harry gives her a rueful smile. “Yes.”

“ _Her wards are shite_.”

“He says your wards are weak,” Harry relays.

“ _The Ministry Wards are a rotten, holey cheese. You can’t fix that, you need to throw it away and make Wards that_ aren’t _made out of cheese_.”

Savage leans forward. “What is he saying now?”

“Er, that the current wards are unsalvageable. It’ll be easier to just build from the ground up.”

“And who do you propose would do that? The Wards have been constructed from the work of hundreds of years of wixes.”

After a pause, Malfoy says, “ _Piece by piece. We build new wards starting from the inside, and one-by-one drop the old wards surrounding the Ministry before expanding the new wards out._ ”

Harry relays Malfoys words.

Savage gives a sardonic smile. “It would be best if Draco Malfoy took a hand at building the new wards, wouldn’t it? But what’s to say he won’t _break_ them again.”

Malfoy chuckles.

Harry shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.”

Savage sighs. “Assemble a team, Potter. Malfoy included. Just get it done.”

🙄😏

Potter owes Draco _so many favours_ when he ropes Draco onto the team to rebuild the Ministry Wards, alongside with a handful of Unspeakables, Wards Specialists, Charms Masters, Gringotts goblins, and Hermione Granger.

Meanwhile, Pansy’s laughing at him as she swans around working on her own automation spells.

Draco ends up abandoning ship as soon as he can: everyone else on the team catches on quick enough, and Draco has the excuse of “Needing to look at the Malfoy accounts, because _really_.” After the initial planning out of the wards, it’s now mostly gruntwork and picking at the tiny details and other boring stuff.

Instead, he goes for a stroll down the Wixing London alleys, trailing his hands through the shops’ wards. The wards are all so pitiful, and all so easy.

When he passes by Gringotts, he notes that their wards have strengthened. He tries the bringing-in-a-device trick, but the wards cut down behind him and sever the link. He’ll have to think of something else.

After Gringotts, and after obtaining an icecream from Fortescue’s, Draco wonders about what he should do next. About what wards he could try to break into. He could go for Gringotts again, but there’s nothing _new_ there.

The place with the strongest Wards he knows is Hogwarts.

Slowly, Draco smirks.

😏😏

Hogwarts is even further from Malfoy Manor than London, and it takes Draco a while to even achieve the _reach_ he needs to project his magic to the gates of Hogwarts. And unlike the previous places Draco’s analysed, Hogwarts is at least a small bit _sentient_ , and all its wards are made up tiny little spell components that work together in some pre-ordained manner, smoothly.

It doesn’t matter _too much_ if Draco can’t even get in: just studying the wards engages Draco, as he thinks of ways he could apply them to Malfoy Manor and make the Manor impenetrable.

That said, he still wants in.

🤔😈

After numerous owls from Minerva Mcgonagall over the years, on the spur, Harry decides to accept the most recent one to give a lecture on Defence Against the Dark Arts to the seventh years.

Going up Hogwarts fills Harry with nostalgia, and he spends some good time catching up with Hagrid first before going up to Hogwarts.

As he makes his way to the doors of Hogwarts, the doors automatically opens and a voice says, “ _Welcome, Vanquisher of Evil, the Great Harry Potter. Don’t forget to vanish the mud on your shoes_.”

Behind the doors is McGonagall and a great many students, and some of them are giggling.

Harry narrows his eyes at them all. “Is that new?”

McGonagall is the only one also frowning. “No, I’ve never heard that before. _Someone_ must be playing a prank,” she adds a little sharply, and the giggles stop.

Harry waves a hand. “Somehow, I think I know who it is. Someone whose name starts with the letter _M_ and lives in a house starting with the letter _M_ that I’m going to be visiting later tonight.”

McGonagall’s eyebrows shoot up. “Very well, shall go right into the lecture?”

Harry nods. “Yes please.”

The antics, apparently, don’t stop there, because as Harry starts giving the lecture, images appear in the space behind him, illustrating what Harry’s saying.

McGongall looks curious, and the kids are impressed and engaged.

But Harry knows better, especially when the figure representing Harry’s all tall and triangle-shaped and bulk and with curly hair and bird nesting on top.

After the lecture, Harry spends time answering questions, and once all the kids leave, McGonagall chats with Harry up in her office.

“Those projections were quiet something,” she says. “They would make History of Magic palatable.”

Harry snorts. “I didn’t do them. A certain person whose name starts with _M_ did it. He’s been breaking through wards, and I suspect he’s broken into Hogwarts.” Harry pulls a face. “He’s probably listening now, the Slytherin _git_.”

Portrait Snape suddenly appears. “ _Mr Malfoy_?” he asks archly.

Meanwhile, Portrait Dumbledore chuckles. “Minerva, perhaps you should check the wards.”

McGongal looks up into the distance, and then shakes her head in disbelief. “Something is _petting_ Hogwarts wards. It’s—it’s _purring_ , in the loosest sense of the word.”

“He probably bribed Hogwarts somehow,” Harry says, long suffering. “You should probably look into it, and he’ll probably break in again.”

McGongall’s eyebrows draw together. “For what _purpose_?”

Harry sighs. “For fun? I guess he’s unemployed, and he doesn’t have anything better to do. Do you know any charms masters or arithmancy masters or something who would accept him as a student? At least that way he’ll be occupied.”

Harry’s chair suddenly tips him over. “ _Malfoy!_ ” Harry clambers back up again.

Portrait Snape has a dry smile, and Portrait Dumbledore has a broad smile, and McGonagall has a sigh.

“It was good to see you again, Harry. It would be nice to see you again next year, at the latest.”

Harry gives a sheepish smile. “Okay. Can I use your floo?”

McGonagall inclines her head. “You may.”

Harry floos directly Malfoy’s study in Malfoy Manor.

He stumbles, as always, and glares when Malfoy laughs at him.

Malfoy’s reclining back, and a miniature Hogwarts is in front of him. A lazy hand is smoothing over the Hogwarts, and Harry can see the spells trembling— _purring_ , as McGonagall described. His hair is a little wispy, and his top buttons to his fussy robes are undone, meaning that he’s been at his task for a while.

Malfoy’s laughter subsides to a lazy grin, all curved lips and bright eyes and magnetic pull. “How may I help you, Auror Potter?”

“What would it take for you to _not_ kick me off my chair?” Harry asks, stalking forward.

Malfoy puts a long finger on his lips. “Hmmm,” he says. “What would it take, I wonder…”

Harry licks his lips. “How much would a kiss get me?”

Satisfyingly, Malfoy startles.

Inwardly, Harry’s revelling at turning the tables on Malfoy.

Harry gets closer, until his knees bump against Malfoy’s legs. “How much would a date get me?”

Malfoy licks his lips. “A few days of not kicking you off of your chair,” he breaths. “It wouldn’t do to get you bruises like that.”

“How many days _exactly_?”

Malfoy’s eyelids drop in a sly look. “One day for a kiss, three days for a date.”

“Then, if you don’t kick me off my chair, or otherwise inconvenience me starting now, I’ll give you a kiss tomorrow,” Harry says.

Maloy pouts. “I want my payment _first_.”

“I want _my_ payment first,” Harry shoots back.

“And the date?”

“Four days from now,” Harry says.

“Very well.” Malfoy licks his lips. His very tantalising lips, Harry suddenly realises. It wouldn’t be much trouble at _all_ to kiss those lips.

Harry quickly takes a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He waves to Malfoy and floos back to the Ministry.

He’s looking forward to day without Malfoy’s tampering...and to that kiss.

😘😏

This time, Draco allows himself to watch Potter’s backside as he leaves.

In the meantime, Draco has a spell idea he wants to implement: something that’ll automate picking out fashionable clothes for Potter. If Potter’s going to be Draco’s partner, being fashionable is extremely necessary. So Draco says goodbye to Hogwarts, and apparates-via-the-inbetween-spaces into Potter’s bedroom. Stretching his fingers, Draco gets to work on Potter’s wardrobe. He thinks he might try a faux-sentient spell this time. He’ll call it... Artificial Fashionability.

  


 

 

😉 _finite_ 😎

  


  


  


  


**Author's Note:**

> This was unbelievably fun to write 🤭
> 
> If you liked it 👌 👏 then don't forget 🙏 to leave a kudos ❤️ and/or a comment 💬 below!
> 
> You can still find me on [tumblr@bafflinghaze](http://bafflinghaze.tumblr.com) 🤙


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